milk and sugar
by eudaemonics
Summary: Poetry sparked in his mind. As if his presence alone had lit a flame of inspiration. Elliott/Player drabbles.
1. Wither

**i started playing Stardew Valley again after doing multiplayer with my boyfriend— who told me about how much he loved Elliott and how he married him. so, naturally, i made another save file and went after Elliott for the first time— and man was i missing out because Elliott is exactly my type.**

 **i may give the farmer a name for later works if i do more Elliott/player, idk. i wanted to avoid that, but it'll more than likely get annoying just referring to him as "the farmer."**

 **i dunno. giving the farmer a name feels more personal than what i want this to be, but it'll probably have to come down to that vnv.**

* * *

"Are you giving it enough water?"

"Every day." Elliott answered, attentively watching the farmer inspect the rose he presented to him.

The farmer prodded the soil in the pot with his index finger— damp; proof that Elliott was being honest. It was surely getting enough water, and Elliott's shack had plenty of windows, so sunlight shouldn't have been an issue…

The farmer couldn't think of any reason why the rose should have been wilting. Perhaps Elliott was cursed? Perhaps he would talk to the wizard about that.

"I mean… it's really not that hard to take care of a rose." The farmer sighed, "Just sunlight an' water. I don't get it, either."

Was the air in the shack too dry? He considered it, but immediately disregarded the thought; the place was actually pretty humid.

He moved in closer to the rose to see if maybe there were unwanted parasites in the soil, then a certain scent caught his attention— like the rest of his shack, the rose smelled of the ocean. Which, in this case, was far from a good thing. Upon closer inspection, there was a faint salt residue left on the clay pot.

"Elliott," he began, an near look of disbelief on his face, "Are you… using ocean water? When you water it?"

"Yes?" Elliott replied, "...Should I not be?"

He wasn't kidding when he told him that he was no good with caring for plants.

"That would be the problem." The farmer laughed, "Salt water isn't any good for plants. Pretty sure that actually dehydrates them or something."

"Really!" Elliott genuinely sounded surprised.

...Which meant he would have to venture all the way up to the river to fetch water for this single rose.


	2. Poem

**nevermind my previous a/n. gave farmer a name. Jack is simple and farmy.**

* * *

The sound of his door was almost indistinguishable from thunder. The only indication Elliott had that someone had just entered his home were the sounds of boots on wood and an exasperated gasp for air.

Startled, he turned around in his chair away from his writing to greet his visitor. "Hello, nice of you to vi— Goodness!"

He was met with the farmer Jack, sopping from rain.

"Sorry if I'm tracking sand-mud in here," he apologized sheepishly, "I was just checking my crab pots, but it suddenly started pouring on me."

Elliott gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "That is quite alright; I track enough sand in here on my own."

(Not to mention some beach wildlife that occasionally found their way into his home somehow.)

"Oh, but you're soaked!" Elliott rose from his chair and moved with haste to a small closet in the corner of his shack. From there, he pulled out a towel and offered it to Jack.

The farmer took it with a cheery _thank you_ , and rubbed the towel against his head and face. Elliott patiently watched in silence as he worked to dry himself off; gaze following droplets of water that fell from his hair to his neck.

Jack was dirty— not _disgusting_ , no. Not by any means. However, there was just the thinnest layer of dirt that covered his body. To be expected considering his line of work, surely. It gave him a rather rugged look. Even, dare he say, _handsome_. The water that ran down him had left clean trails on his skin.

His wet shirt clinged to his chest, in which Elliott truly got to saw how muscular Jack was. He didn't recall him being so toned when they had first met— farming must have been tough work. His eyes lowered to his hands, clearly callused. Answering that thought to be correct.

Harrow, sow, water. Until labor rubs his hands raw. _Honest._ Summer heat; sweat dripping from his skin. Given no time to rest from the time the day begins.

"Elliott?" Jack spoke up, "You've been staring at me, like… not even blinking."

"Huh? Have I? Er…" Elliott cleared his throat, "Pardon me, I got lost in thought and spaced out."

It was only then he had realized he had been gawking at his friend— and not just staring, but poetry sparked in his mind. As if his presence alone had lit a flame of inspiration.


	3. Moonlight

"You want me to go night-time-skinny-dipping with you?"

"Correct."

"In the ocean."

"Where else?"

"In the middle of _fall_."

"...Yes."

The two had been dating for a few months now— perhaps longer, really. Jack had given Elliott a bouquet a while before as indication of how he felt (oh, how Elliott almost _fainted_ ), but things didn't really start getting serious between them until Elliott took his rowboat and Jack out on a _maiden voyage_ , and Elliott so boldly kissed him.

After that, it seemed Elliott became more bold in general.

That was certainly a _bold_ suggestion.

"I find the cold clears my mind," he explained himself, "Energizes and invigorates me."

Fair enough, Jack supposed. He can certainly see how getting naked with another man and going for a little swim together would be _invigorating_ …

But, he just _knew_ that water was going to be freezing.

"You aren't worried that someone might, you know, walk in on us?" Jack asked, "It is a public beach."

"Oh, its so late at night that nobody will come." Elliott smiled, "Well, except perhaps for Sebastian."

He scoffed. "Great."

Despite Jack's hesitation, they went that minute. Not a single word more of debate. Just a gentle tug at the farmer's wrists leading him outside Elliott's shack and onto the beach. Where they promptly undressed and Elliott folded his clothes by the shore, while Jack tossed his haphazardly next to the other's neat pile.

This was _a lot_ less sensual than Jack had imagined— and the idea of going into cold water already made it pretty unsensual in his mind. It was so dark that he couldn't really get a good look at Elliott's body. Just a faint outline from what little light filtered from his shack. That was kind of a bummer.

The water was _definitely_ cold. Elliott had come over to wrap his arms around his body as he shivered. A futile gesture, but their bodies pressed up together like that was pretty nice. The two didn't spend long in the water at all before Jack suggested they leave before they both get hypothermia.

They lied on the beach, on top of towels that Elliott had brought out. Everything aside, the ocean was really pretty at night.

"Do you come out here at night often?" Jack asked.

"Hmm… Only sometimes."

Elliot went on to say after a long moment that the view of a dark sea made him feel alone.

And he was right. Jack did feel alone. Alone with _him_. Buck naked on a beach. Every so often looking back to make sure Sebastian didn't pop up, deciding to go for a nighttime stroll. Freezing his ass off _just for him_.

Elliott traced his fingers over Jack's face, causing the farmer to look over at him— for his eyes to gaze upon that gentle face in the dark with orange light just barely illuminating him.

"Jack…" Elliott began, voice soft yet with some sort of _conviction_ , "...You're so cold! We need to get you inside immediately."


End file.
